


Wanted: Warm Body

by jolymusichetta



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:01:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolymusichetta/pseuds/jolymusichetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joly is no Enjolras. Grantaire needs a warm body and something to distract him. For the moment, Joly works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wanted: Warm Body

Joly was no Enjolras, Grantaire noted as he pressed the former up against a wall, hands frantically pushing up his shirt. He was too masculine for his taste, his hair too dark and his body too gawky. But that didn't stop Grantaire from kissing him again and nudging a leg in between Joly's, giving him something to grind down against. He ran his fingers up Joly's vaguely defined abdomen, probably something that came with the bits of working out he managed to do during the little downtime interning at a hospital provided. His breath hitched when he heard Joly whimper, like a shark smelling blood. It was one of the nights where he was desperate. He was sure he would get hell from Musichetta the next morning after she noticed Joly walking with a slight limp. Bahorel would just wonder if Bossuet had finally plucked up the courage and managed to stutter out something akin to asking Joly on a date. Courfeyrac, who could smell sex from a kilometer away, would just smirk and make a few crude hip thrusts in Grantaire's direction while nodding at Joly, hoping no one else would notice. No one else would notice, not even if he made a flashing neon sign and hung it on his chest, the light up letters saying 'I fucked Joly'.

Enjolras wouldn't even comb away the long, blond hair from his eyes as he looked over the notes Combeferre had taken from the most recent Amis meeting. He wouldn't bat an eye if Grantaire were to kiss Joly in the middle of the meeting, earning a snarl in his direction from Bossuet or a few catcalls from various others. Only if he pushed Joly down on top of the notes Enjolras was so intently studying would he finally look up, irritation and frustration making his eyebrows crease and his lips purse to shout at them. 

Grantaire tried not to think about that as he sucked at Joly's neck, with every intention to make such a big, obvious mark that would be looming for several days. Enjolras would have to be blind to miss the hickey. So he kept making hickeys, not caring that he would get a lecture from Combeferre for using people just because he could. He smirked as he felt Joly's body start to tighten and wondered if he really couldn't keep from coming for very long. He was going to get off before Joly did, otherwise, the purpose of this whole tryst would be defeated. 

"Don't you dare," he whispered, grabbing the bulge in Joly's jeans and squeezing tightly, staving off his orgasm for a moment longer. Joly whimpered but nodded, his head falling back against the wall and exposing more skin for Grantaire to mark. He idly wondered if Joly was submissive because he had a fair amount of wine and weed in his system or if he was just naturally submissive. Whatever it was, he didn't mind. Made tonight all the easier on him, if he didn't have to constantly fight for dominance in bed. He broke back and stepped away from Joly, who gave another whimper at the loss of contact. Grantaire hooked his fingers in Joly's waistband, leading him into the bedroom and pushing him towards the bed. "Strip and get on your stomach. Ass in the air."

Joly hurried to obey, anything if it meant he could get off sooner. Grantaire stripped and, having taken a lesson from Courfeyrac, coated his fingers in lube as he knelt on the bed. He looked at the man in front of him. If he couldn't see Joly, he could pretend he was Enjolras, at least. He had made sure to leave the lights off as they went into the bedroom. He slid one finger in, then two, then three, not giving Joly much time to adjust to the stretch. He didn't know how long Joly could last and he certainly wasn't about to be left high and dry after the other man came. (Word around the Musain was that try as he may, Joly wasn't able to stay awake for long after climax.) He made quick work of sliding a condom on and covering his cock in lube. "I'll push in on three. Don't come until I do," he muttered, quickly counting to two before he pushed in. Joly hissed but he paid that no mind and began fucking into him, just like he had with Prouvaire one night, a week or so before this instance and some guy he had met on street two weeks before the former instance.

He could pretend that the vague, mewling noises coming from Joly's lips were sounds Enjolras would make, his body giving under the stretch and his fingers curling into the bedsheets. Of course, he didn't know what Enjolras sounded like when he came, his angelic face contorted in bliss and his back arching as waves of ecstasy rolled over him, leaving him drained and exhausted, so he would merely have to substitute his own sound. He wondered if Enjolras would be like Joly, falling asleep before he could reciprocate or go for another round or two. He wondered whether Enjolras would be as responsive and loud as Joly was, if the repetitious motion of his prostate being hit would bring him closer to orgasm. He was avoiding looking for it in Joly, who was currently rocking back to meet Grantaire's thrusts, as if he was encouraging him to go deeper and hit that one spot that would make him feel so absolutely wonderful. 

He had half a mind to come and then leave, leaving Joly to sort himself out, which wouldn't take much if he were still thinking about the night, but he was nothing if not a generous fuck. He thrust into Joly one last time before he came, kissing the small of Joly's back as the okay for him to come too. He was thanking whoever invented condoms too, because he did not want to hear Joly rant about all of the diseases that could be transmitted through semen, nor did he relish the thought of Joly using a douche. He pulled out and pealed the condom off, tying it and tossing it in the trash, dreessing quickly. He rolled Joly over, sighing as he saw that Joly had already adopted a sleepy look, looking nothing like the man that had been grinding against Grantaire's knee earlier that night. He pressed a final kiss to Joly's lips. "Good night, monsieur."

So, no, Joly was no Enjolras. Enjolras was something that Grantaire couldn't have but wanted so desperately, enough for him to settle for fucking random men at will. But, no matter, he'd rather not treat Enjolras just as another warm body, something he could now say Joly was to him. He left, running a hand through his hair and sighing to himself. For the night, Joly had sufficed but he doubted it would be long before he was out looking for another quick fuck.


End file.
